You'd've thought it was the sort of thing to please the dear pig, but none of it.
'You oughta be out there wi our Dag, you be a general, not risking yer life for a coupla old geezers.'
Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to work on me own.
Styr was up for it. Yeah, Styr was up for anything. I'd have to say, you couldn't call Styr a force for good in this old world, but him and me, we were just about unbeatable when you put us together.
These two guys were big stars for Conor and they could have had a place in the Estate if they wanted, ten times over. No one really knew why they didn't. It was safe there, the security was watertight, no one ever even coughed without security knowing about it. And these two needed security; they had a lot of enemies. But they preferred to live on the outside.
They spent most of their time in a huge mansion in Kentish Town. Bloody great place, built more like a safe than a fortress. Steel walls – honest to God, I've seen it. No one got in or out of there, not even me and Styr. And so they got away with it year after year after year.
It was Cherry, as always, who brought us the news. She was getting on by this time, Cherry. It was only a couple of years after I'd taken Styr on, but she'd aged eight years or more. I'd put her about fifty. I was twenty-four. She was still good looking, but not really fanciable as far as I was concerned. The time was, I could have fallen for Cherry and maybe she could have fallen for me. We had an affair for a few years, on and off, at Signy's command probably. I sometimes wonder if I have any relations out there, running around living off mice. What a thought! It makes you a lot nicer to cats, I can tell you. It faded out shortly after Styr came on the scene. I've got a couple of catty girls I see from time to time – not too much animal, but I like a bit of fur and a nice purr, although they do tend to have rough tongues.
Cherry was a bit like an aunt to me these days. Tell the truth, the way she looked at me sometimes I think she must've felt about me the way I used to feel about her. Getting old so fast couldn't be much fun for her. At this rate she couldn't really have much more than five years or so left. Anyway, that's getting off the point. The thing is, there was a chance at the Wallace brothers. Like I say, they spent their time locked in that stainless steel castle in Kentish Town. We knew they came out, but when? I was always on at her about it, and finally she came up with the goods.
She had all the info – when they'd be arriving, the address of the house, even down to the security details for the evening. It was a godsend. Even so, it wasn't gonna be easy. They were well guarded, they had vehicles, they had fire power – big fire power. It was pretty obvious it was a job for more than two, but my usual helpers weren't so keen on this one. For a start, I couldn't promise them any loot. For another, it was just too dangerous for the likes of my mates Fumble and Skunk, and maybe it was a bit out of their depth. So, in the end, I let Styr convince me that we should let Dag help us out.
Yeah, well. I want clear blue water between me and the resistance movement. Like I say, it's not that I don't sympathise, but I've had enough of that sort of shit to last me several lifetimes. It's true that a few of my targets these last few years have been political, which has made me popular with the resistance. I don't mind my fat pigs being political targets, or maybe even military ones, so long as there's some decent reward in it for me. I don't think for one second it'll do any real good, except that it keeps people's spirits up, and there's nothing wrong with that. But this was the first time I'd worked together with the soldiers, and I didn't like it.
It was the same guy Melanie had around that time, in Muswell Hill. Same old crap, reeling off the list of military targets me and Styr had polished off, and begging me to join up.
'It's not in me,' I told him.
He slapped his head as if I was being stupid. 'Half of Conor's top generals under your belt and it's not in you!' he howled. Meanwhile, old Melanie was prowling up and down honking and grunting.
'When'm you gonna see sense, my Sigs?' she moaned.
'Dag Aggerman…' began the emissary, but I'd had enough. I didn't want to know how great Aggerman thought I was. I stuck my gristle in his face and snarled, 'Do you wanna help me take out the Wallace brothers or what?' He shrugged and looked all sulky, but he knew better than to cross me, so we got down to details. Hard bargaining, but we got about twenty men and a bit of serious artillery. It was enough for a surprise attack.
Cherry did us proud, but even so we weren't entirely sure of how many men we were up against. Knowing the Wallace brothers there could have been any number hiding around or riding about, but in the end it looked as though they were relying on secrecy because there weren't that many after all. Dag's men were all just that- men. I did the commander bit, talked hard, clapped them on the shoulder, made 'em feel like I'd known'em all my life. Val taught me how to do that. We had a couple of practice runs at night round Hackney before we did the real thing. Aggerman had them well trained, despite all the whingeing about human troops. We had half our force approaching underground through the drains, and the rest of us attacking simultaneously from front and back.
We didn't have long. There were only a handful of blokes guarding the house, but it was a fair bet there'd be a few more arriving double-quick from the barracks in Station Road. It was easy to start with. Their men were good, but they were outnumbered and we really caught them on the hop. Half of 'em were round the table playing cards when we came in through every window in the house- BANG! We cleared the hall and front room, and Styr and me were up the stairs before you could cough, leaving the rest of them to finish off the guard and hold off any help from outside.
We found 'em still in their beds: two skinny, grey old geezers in a pair of neat single beds tucked up against the wall with a couple of little oil lamps on as if they were scared of the dark. And you know what? They were still asleep. We'd unleashed a holocaust, men were dying and the whole place was being smashed to shreds, and there they were, on top of the volcano, sleeping soundly.
We stood looking at them. They were weird looking people, like the ghosts of children, lying all peaceful in their little bedroom. You could hardly believe they'd killed maybe a million people between them.
'What is it with them?' I demanded. Styr frowned and shrugged. I was put off… killing two sleeping men? But he had no qualms. He did it with his knife, first one, then the other, and wiped the blade calmly on the duvet cover.
'That was what we came here for,' he said.
Then it was time to get out, quick. We'd made enough noise to wake the dead. I was about to leg it when I spotted something very strange hanging up on the wall by their beds.
It was a funny little room. Neat wallpaper covered in little pink flowers, chest of drawers. Small wardrobe, a little book shelf. Very cosy, really. But these two things hanging by the bed were out of place. I thought at first they were dressing gowns with hoods. Grey, furry dressing gowns. But they were too hairy. Too ugly. Then I saw the ears, and I went and took one off the hook.
It was a wolfskin. It'd been hanging on the peg by the tip of the snout, and the heads were what I'd taken for hoods. I held it out over my arms and glanced at Styr. He reached out and stroked the coarse, thick fur.
Outside there was trouble on its way. I could hear cars revving up further down the street. Cars meant weapons. We had to move.
Styr grinned. He shook the other skin over his arm like a tailor showing off a bolt of cloth. 'Werewolves. They were werewolves.'
'Are there such things?'
'Them sleeping through all this.' He shook the skin again and nodded at the two dead men. They looked no different dead from when they were only sleeping. 'They're not real, you see,' he said. 'They're only real when they wear these.'
I thought, how do you know? But I just said, 'Come on…' I was in a hurry to get out.
Styr grinned at me, a kind of leer, and he said, 'Let's try 'em on.'
I stopped. Why should a man want to be a wolf?
'Try them on… come on,' he repeated.
'Don't be stupid. What for?'
'Are you scared?'
'Why should I be?' I
'Come on, Siggy. Try it on for size…'
I knew better of course. But, let's face it. I was tempted. Wouldn't you want to know what it's like? And the other thing, since I'm being honest – I should have known sense, but he was my son and he was taunting me with cowardice. My blood was still hot from the killing. Outside the cars were drawing up. I kidded myself it would just
